The Bride Next Door. Winnie Griggs
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home wasn’t exactly the warm, loving household that I’m hoping to build for myself.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
She met his gaze without blinking. “No.”
“I see.” He stared at her a moment longer, as if trying to read answers in her face. Then he moved on. “Would you like to talk about the restaurant you hope to open someday? Or would you rather wait until you’re closer to making it a reality before spreading the news of your intentions?”
Daisy was surprised but pleased that he hadn’t pressed her. “Oh, I don’t mind. I want folks to know what they have to look forward to.” She leaned forward again, trying her best to communicate her vision. “I don’t intend to make it all fancy and highfalutin. I want folks to feel comfortable and happy when they walk in. I’m going to serve hearty, homey food that fills the belly and warms the soul, because that’s what I do best. And I’m going to paint the place in bright cheery colors and have flowers on all the tables.”
“That’s fine for this time of year, but it might be hard to do during the winter.”
That was just like him to look for gray clouds in a sunny sky. To her relief, the food arrived just then, saving her from further inquisition.
At least for the moment.
* * *
Everett set his pencil and pad aside as the waitress fussed with serving their food.
The interview so far had raised as many questions about her as it had answered. The way she’d described her planned restaurant was indicative of how little business sense she had. She’d focused on feelings and cosmetics instead of a sound plan to achieve her goals.
She’d said she was looking for, among other things, a family of her own. So that indicated she was looking for a husband. Which probably meant the restaurant idea was only something to get her by until she had a man to provide for her.
She hadn’t wanted to discuss her time at her grandmother’s, yet she hadn’t been happy traveling with her father, either. What was she really looking for? Did she even know herself? And would she be able to find it in Turnabout? Or would she only face disappointment and find herself moving on once again?
As soon as their waitress departed, and before he could resume his questions, Daisy beat him to the punch.
“So is it my turn for questions?” she asked with a teasing smile.
He raised a brow, not at all certain that would be a good idea. Better to treat her question lightly. “Are you planning to write an article for the paper, too? I thought you said you weren’t good at writing things down.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not looking to give you competition, just trying to satisfy my curiosity.” Her smile broadened. “You’re not afraid to get a taste of your own medicine, are you?”
He couldn’t let that veiled challenge pass. “What do you want to know?”
“How did a particular gent like you end up here in Turnabout?”
A particular gent? He wasn’t sure what that meant. And more important, had she intended it as a compliment or criticism?
Better not to ask. “Before I came here, I was a reporter for a newspaper in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, the editor and I had a falling out. When I learned of an opportunity to actually own my own newspaper business here, I jumped at it.” Mainly because that was the only option open to him at the time. There was nothing to be gained by mentioning the scandal he’d been involved in, the scandal that had cost him nearly everything. And deservedly so.
“So how’d you hear about this great opportunity? I mean, I wouldn’t think most folks in Philadelphia have even heard of Turnabout.”
Everett decided being on this end of an interview wasn’t nearly the same as being on the other. “A friend of mine has some connections here—a granddaughter, as a matter of fact. He knew I was looking for something different, and he told me about it.” He raised a brow. “Anything else?” he asked in his chilliest tone.
“Do all the folks in Philadelphia talk like you do?”
Was she being deliberately impertinent or merely trying to make conversation? “My accent, you mean?” She’d probably never heard a British accent before. “Actually, I lived in England until I was twelve.”
Her hands stilled, and her eyes widened. “Oh, my goodness. You crossed the ocean when you were twelve?”
That part of his life seemed a dream now. Or should he say a nightmare? He wondered if his father had ever given him another thought once he’d sent him and his mother away.
He smiled at her reaction. “I didn’t do it alone.” Then he locked his gaze with hers. “And no, I’m not going to discuss my life before arriving in America with you, so you may as well move on.”
She gave him an arch smile, or at least her version of one. “Keeping secrets of your own, are you? I guess we all have them.” She didn’t seem unduly bothered by his words. “So, moving on to another topic, what about family?”
Best to stick to the living. “I have a sister.”
Her expression softened. “I always wished I had a sister or brother. Is she older or younger than you?”
“Much younger. And before you ask, she’s attending a boarding school in Boston.” He pointedly stabbed a chunk of potato with his fork. He’d had enough. “Now, why don’t we put aside the interrogation and eat our meal before it gets cold.”
She held his gaze for a few moments, and he could almost see her trying to decide whether or not to push forward. She finally nodded, and they both turned their focus on their food without another word.
After several minutes Everett relented, but there was no more talk of a personal nature. “Have you had that dog of yours very long?” he asked.
Her stiffness eased, and her smile returned. Apparently he’d found a question she didn’t mind answering.
“No. As a matter of fact, we’re brand-new friends. I’d only been on the road to Turnabout for a couple of hours when Kip showed up and took to following me. I checked with folks at a couple of the farms I passed, and no one laid claim to him. Which was okay with me. He was friendly, and I was happy for the company.”
He imagined a woman traveling alone would be—especially at night. He still couldn’t believe her father hadn’t taken the time to escort her back here. The man should be horse whipped.
“He’s barely left my side since,” she added as she reached for her glass.
“And you plan to keep him?”
She seemed surprised by the question. “Of course. Like I said, we’re friends now. As long as Kip wants to stick around, he’s welcome to do so.”
Everett resisted the urge to shake his head. He could understand her wanting the animal’s companionship and protection while she was on the road. But now that she was settled in and trying to establish herself, couldn’t she see he would only be a drain on her limited resources?
But he’d said his piece. If she was an overly sentimental sort, then that was her problem.
The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough. He was even forced to grudgingly admit, at least to himself, that Daisy could be a pleasant companion when she tried to be.
Later that evening, after he’d seen Daisy to her door and she’d promised to show up about nine o’clock the following morning since it was her first day, Everett returned to his own office.
He settled at his desk where he went to work transcribing his interview notes into an article. Tomorrow was Friday, one of the two days a week the paper went out. Tuesday was the other. That meant he had a long night ahead of him. Luckily, he’d already set aside space on the second page for his interview with Miss